Bygone Days
by Aenariel
Summary: Azanulbizar - After the battle comes the time to honor the dead. Yet, in the middle of the disaster, a young prince keeps hope. Just a Fool's Hope … Thorïn / Frerïn ( OS)


A great battle long ago

« A slaughter ». Thorïn bit his lip while contemplating the horror that laid in front of him. It truly was the most suitable word. Endless bodies, orcs, dwarfs, far too many dwarfs actually.

And they called it a victory. He could feel the irony on his tongue, its bitter taste making him sick. The young prince of Erebor breathed deeply, trying to calm down and started seeking again for his brother, fear guiding his steps in the middle of this bloodshed.

He had forgotten when they had been separated. It might have been when he had walked straight on the foul pale orc, responsible for this massacre. He was not sure. He had been enraged by his grandfather's brutal death at the hand of Azog. So surely it was it. Nothing else would have been able to make him break the promise he had made to Frerïn.

Thorïn looked carefully at every corpse, becoming slowing aware of the extent of the disaster, feeling his blood freezing every time he caught sight of a fair lock, its brightness piercing his heart. But none of them belonged to his younger brother.

It seemed as if he had spent an eternity searching this battlefield. The young prince suddenly realized that he had went too far, losing momentarily sight of the East gate of Khazad-dûm. He was ready to turn back when he spotted what seemed to be a group of survivors at the edge of the woods bordering the Kheled-zâram. Among them he immediately recognized Gloïn and his brother Oïn. Thorïn sighed with relief upon noticing that his friends were alive. Surely Frerïn was among them. Yes, surely.

Although the battle had drained him and he could feel his limbs becoming slowly numb, Thorïn did not hesitate and ran towards them as though his life depended on it, trying to silence the treacherous voice inside him that kept whispering that his bloodline was cursed and that his brother had paid the price for it.

Having reached the group, he quickly made his way through the crowd to get to its center. He was so very close to his aim that he did not notice the massive silhouette that suddenly tried to block any passage. Recognizing his best friend, Dwalïn, he was about to thank Mahal when something in his attitude send a shiver through his spine.

He knew he shoud have felt relieved for Dwalïn had always been a loyal and strong warrior. Yet here he was, looking defeated and barely holding tears. Suddenly noticing the lowered looks that surrounded him and the fact that Balïn was sitting aside his head burried in his hands, Thorïn froze and stared at his counterpart without understanding. After all, they had been friends since childhood and he could not remember ever seeing Dwalïn shed a single tear, at least not in front of him.

« Thorïn, we need to talk. »

The young prince of Erebor felt his whole body immediately grow cold and a deaf terror started to compress his lungs, preventing him from breathing.

« Stand aside ! »

He had not meant to yell but wrath was better than the fear that threatened to overwhelm him. Despite his shouting, Dwalïn did not shift in the slightest.

« Did you not hear me ? It's an order ! »

Eyes filled with barely contained tears, the brave warrior seemed to face the cruellest dilemma. Finally, he surrendered, moving off knowing beforehand that Thorïn would be heart broken.

The young prince closed his eyes and for a moment, a simple moment, clear and bright, he pictured his brother waiting for him casually with a smile on his lips, probably delighted to have made him wait. This vision brought a small laughter from him.

Then this moment faded and Thorïn Oakenshield opened his eyes to see his world collapsed.

oOo

As soon as Dwalïn had step aside, he had regretted it. He had heard his new king, far too young, stagger with difficulty towards the already cold corpse of his younger brother. He had clenched his fists when his prince had started choking with horror. He had closed his eyes when Thorïn had cradled Frerïn's body in his arms and ordered him to wake up. Finally, he had let his tears fall when his best friend had screamed in pure agony.

At this very moment, Dwalïn had known that Azanulbizar had made Thorïn a hero but had deprived him of a part of himself and he doubted sincerely that he could recover from it one day.


End file.
